


Ghosts

by Kitty Fisher (kittyfisher)



Category: Smallville
Genre: Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Past Abuse, not enough healing, queer epiphany
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29488449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyfisher/pseuds/Kitty%20Fisher
Summary: Something else found on a flashdrive, originally on LJ.Lionel goes too far, Clark finds a fork in the road and Lex... well, he is 21...
Relationships: Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, Lex Luthor & Lionel Luthor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Ghosts

Ghosts

Kitty Fisher

He awoke in almost darkness; metal, edged like treachery, held cold and hard to his skin. Vertigo spinning the room, sweat slicking his spine, he fought away from the vestiges of sleep to arch up, to fight, but the tightness across his throat had him in a choke hold, the pressure enough to simply keep him still, not to slice through skin or muscle. Not to kill.

Gasping, Lex Luthor peered up through the shadows at his assailant. Eyes wide, he catalogued the sparse information his senses allowed him: the scent of leather and brandy, masculine body shape, the roughness of his cotton sheets as they clung to his back and pooled around his waist. The silence apart from his own fear-spiked breathing.

Clawing at the bed as the man leant over him, he gasped as the metal across his throat tightened momentarily. The bed-side lamp clicked on, spilling light.

Pupils wide and transfixed, flinching at the sudden brightness, Lex swallowed.

Lionel.

Adam's apple jerking against the foil held across the soft vulnerability of his neck, Lex mustered his skills. Pale skin opalescent in the light, he relaxed, forced his muscles and sinews to accept the appearance of the casual. And stared up at his father.

Arrogant. He could do arrogant. Even here.

Summoning hauteur, he looked up into assessing, cold eyes. "Hello, Dad. You should have called."

Something like a smile in answer. "This wasn't planned."

"Oh?" A lift of a delicate brow. "I thought you planned everything, Dad?" Bastardising the simple word, loading it with corrosive meaning.

"Not where you're concerned, Alexander."

Names could cut both ways. From that single word Lex knew that his father was very drunk. And that he was in serious trouble.

Cold to the bone, Lex shivered as the sword eased into soft skin. Though trapped he tried to back away, pushing his head further into the pillow, cotton rasping on his skin. Wide-eyed, biting his dry lips he could only watch his father's gloved hands, one either side of his face, the leather tight-stretched over taut knuckles as they gripped the blade.

Pushing.

Fuck.

Choking. Metal about to slice his skin and his father smiling. Pushed back into the single pillow, he gasped, the sound dry, raw, close to something needy, something vulnerable. He bit down on the tiny admittance of weakness, of reaction, of all the things his father loved and Lex had spent so many hours and so many arcane practices learning to deny.

Don't show the pain.

Don't.

He'll be fine when he's sober.

Please…

As soon as Lex whimpered, the pressure eased.

Lionel was grinning, his hair falling around his face, tangling with his beard. One knee on the bed, his weight tilted over his son's supine body, his cashmere overcoat spilling like a cloak across the bed. No one would know he was anything but in total control. Except for Lex.

"So silent. Perhaps I should have brought one of your Nicodemus plants, just to see if the pollen made you any more damn loquacious!" A smile like venom. "Oh, I know about that little miscalculation. I know more than you can imagine. You think you are so damn clever - the heir apparent all grown up and ready to make a play for the crown. Well think again, boy."

Suddenly Lionel stepped back, the blade held lightly, almost perfectly balanced in his hand, the tip just touching Lex's throat. For a moment he stood still, smiling, his eyes closely watching as the slim form on the bed battled for air, for equanimity, pale hands clutching the darkness of his sheets as the sword-tip danced against his throat.

"I… " Rasping cough. Dark-timbred voice close to harsh, stumbling over words, syllables. "What do you want?"

Such pleasure in a father's face. Enough to make the patriarchs weep with joy. "What do I want? A different son would be a start."

Lex closed his eyes for a single breath. Then he lifted his chin. "Shame then, as I'm all you've got."

"So far."

The possibilities swirled around Lex. So far. So, what? Another son? A real one or clone, had LuthorCorp got that far? A clone who could be all the things Lionel's real flesh and blood and genetic hit-and-miss child had failed to be - a clone of Lionel himself.

Or something far more simple.

Lex let air seep into his lungs, and without seeming effort managed a careless shrug of his elegant, bony shoulders. "So, Dad, what are you going to do? Kill me? Bring up Victoria's baby as your only son?"

"So melodramatic." Lionel tutted, still with that secret smile of the perfect sadist. The smile that made Lex's skin crawl on sight. "No, I think you need a trip to the Claremont clinic."

Ah, Lex hated the triumph in his father's eyes. Hated the flash-fear he couldn't conceal, or recover from with grace. "Fuck you. They wouldn't lock me up just on your say so."

"No?" Lionel backed away, the sword tip tracing down over Lex's body, a fine line scored in its wake, bloodless, but slowly turning from white to dark, angry red. "Not even if it was for your own good?"

"I'm sure you could persuade the good doctors a lot of things, but not that. Not now. I am twenty-one, Dad."

"Don't delude yourself, Alexander. The Claremont doctors say whatever I pay them to. I could lock you up and throw away the key. I could wipe every record of you ever having existed and you'd rot in there forever."

"You're drunk."

"Maybe."

That smile again. Lex tried to curve into the bed as the sword tip pushed at his belly, the skin indenting, the practice foil's dulled point not enough to break the skin. Not quite. Though otherwise -

Lex shuddered, and wondered exactly when his father had begun to hate him quite so thoroughly. When he was a mouse-like child? Or when he had failed to live up to the Luthor standards of absolute intractability in his dealings with the world.

Breathing hard he looked up. "Why are you really here? It's three in the morning for God's sake! What did you do, wake the pilot and fly all the way from Metropolis just to shout at me?"

"I had a sudden need to see my only son."

"Very funny."

"Not really. I've been watching you very closely, Lex, but not closely enough it seems. Guess what came to my attention today?"

A hundred possibilities flickered though Lex's mind, he kept silent about them all. "No idea."

"Today I found out about your dealings in LuthorCorp shares. Trying for a take-over?" Lionel lifted his wrist and the blade flickered over Lex's sweating skin, hardly touching here. And there. Just brushing metal onto the pale, thin-fleshed body, a touch for every verbal point he made, as Lex inched back up the bed, levering himself on propped elbows, eyes following the moving tip. "And what else? A little matter of money being siphoned away from the plant. My money, Lex. How did you ever think I wouldn't find out? Maybe you really aren't as bright as you think you are."

Lionel was suddenly leaning over him, the sword still in his hand, his face so close Lex could smell brandy and cigars, four-hundred dollar a bottle cologne. They were close enough to touch. Body to body. Flesh skittering under the weight of perfect tailoring, trying to burrow into the bed-springs, Lex was suddenly sickeningly aware of how naked he was under the thinness of the sheets.

Lionel smiled. Softly. Teeth so white, flashing predatory amusement. "I've been thinking about you, Lex." A leather gloved finger traced over Lex's face, just where the skin was softest, just under the eye. "Why do you provoke me so much? Don't I pay you enough attention? You have everything - absolutely everything and you still want more." He tutted softly, shaking his head. "So greedy. I watched you back in Metropolis, sucking up sex and drugs and power and every high you could grab - out of your head night after night, doing anything you could to claw your way into the gutter. You think that was rebellion? It wasn't, it was just plain pathetic."

Lex knew something like hate was painted on his face, but he couldn't find the will to dissemble. Not here. Not with Lionel's hand stroking down his skin.

Foul memories, ghosts of a thousand nightmares.

Lex twisted, pushed at the searching hand and found himself almost spitted again by the sword he'd managed to forget. So stupid.

And his father, though very drunk, was nowhere near incapable.

"You might as well have spat on our family name. Why can't you appreciate what being a Luthor means?"

"I do."

"No! You don't!" Lionel was suddenly shouting, incandescent with rage, spittle clinging to the fine hairs of his beard. "I want a son who obeys me!"

From somewhere, Lex remembered how to drawl. He wanted to scream about doctors and tests and nannies and tutors and boarding-schools and Summer schools and an endless series of men who watched him and recorded his every word and deed and hairless growth-spurt. But that would be too much like defeat. Instead he looked up into fury and shrugged with perfect disdain. "I might try harder, if you deserved it."

The backhanded blow slammed his head into the pillow. Tasting blood, Lex almost smiled.

"Your idea of a loving caress, Dad?" Laughter bubbling up, he shook his head. "Going to spit me here and now, blame it on a drunken rage and be done with me? True Luthor style paternal affection."

He was giggling as Lionel's second slap slammed him off the bed and onto the floor.

Naked.

He cringed inside, utterly chilled. Too many tests, too many photographs for scientists who couldn't quite tell the difference between research and abuse. His father there all the time, watching. Intent. Hair and beard flowing in a perfect example of how Lex should have been.

Lex reached for the sheet.

His wrist stepped on, held tight to the hard floor; leather brogue crushing bone.

"Oh no you don't. Let's see you." Lionel bent down and, gripping his son's hand, yanked him backwards into the middle of the room.

"Don't!" Skin burning, legs sprawling as he fought for some sort of resistance, wide-eyed, gasping, panic bitter in his gut, Lex lay where his father had pulled him, and looked up.

Tall, overwhelming - so perfectly a real man, Lionel loomed over him, smile flashing in the darkness of his beard. A movement, and the sword clattered into a corner. Breathing hard, Lex gathered himself, was almost braced for the kick that drove into his side and spread him across the floor. Eyes blinded by pain he scrambled away, bare skin scraping raw, ready to run, but Lionel was there; strong hands and vicious determination. A swirl of wool coat and Lex arched as one arm was held in a twisting grip that tore at muscle and tendon. Head jerking back, bruised wrist pushed high into his spine, he sobbed on a tearing breath.

Not again.

Panic swamped any sense he might have possessed.

"Dad, let me go." Voice like a thread; a roughened hemp thread unravelling at the edges. "I am too old, you can't do this!"

"No? Why, when you always were such a whore, Lex? You fucked that Kent boy yet?" Laughter, still bereft of anything akin to humour, bereft of anything but a kind of wild, drunken darkness that made Lex shudder. "Or let him fuck you?"

He twisted desperately. The bones of his shoulder ripping at tendons, sinew, as he got his hand free, almost made it to his feet.

Almost.

Lionel took him down, teeth biting ferally into his exposed neck. Lex arched, pain etched into his pale features. Pain and something like hopelessness. "Please…"

"Begging?" Lionel's weight slammed Lex flat. "Very good. I like obedience, Lex."

"Please, Dad!"

"What?"

"Don't." Just don't.

"You're mine. You obey me, in everything, or I will destroy you as easily as I made you."

Even the pain wasn't enough to make Lex take that. He gasped into the wooded floor, and spat bile back at his father. "Who gave you a fucking god-complex? I may be your son, but I am not your fucking puppet!"

"All those schools and you still have a poor command of invective."

"Fuck you!"

As the words left his mouth, Lex knew.

Wrong.

He closed his eyes as Lionel leaned forward. Lex knew his father was smiling. It was enough to make him shudder.

"I don't think so."

Words like ash in his mouth, Lex shook his head.

"Well, you going to tease me like you used to? Pretty, hairless boy, curled up in my bed night after night. You were such a comfort when your mother died, Lex, I can hardly believe I ever let you sleep alone."

"You are a sick bastard. To think I loved you so much!"

"Past tense? Don't fool yourself." A finger traced across Lex's cheek. "You still love me."

Lex shook his head; all the words he knew, the reasons, the sense and argument, all trapped in his throat.

"You'd do anything to get my attention, wouldn't you."

"No."

"Yes. Even try and destroy my company, just so I notice you. Well, for that you deserve to be punished, Lex. You need to understand that there are other ways to get me to think about you."

"You can't do this to me!" A ripple of pain that was so little to do with his body.

"Oh, but I can."

A shift of muscle and Lex heard a zip pulling down, and reality was the here and now. Violence as punishment, as something like love.

His mind was whiting out. "Father's don't… don't… fuck their kids."

"But they do, if they deserve it."

Manoeuvring, rasp of wool on skin, metal teeth biting into the curve of his ass as weight and leverage were used and found.

"Victoria used to laugh about what a bad fuck you were. I never once told her I knew from first hand experience, though I liked hearing her talk, letting her make me laugh." Lionel sighed softly as Lex whimpered. "Shame Victoria couldn't see you now, she'd enjoy this, Alexander."

And Lex shuddered against the floor, blood darkening his mouth as he bit down hard on his lip.

Pain like fire.

Again.

Again.

Lex blanked the world out. Body going limp, mind trying not to connect to his nervous system, he tried for utter oblivion, the pain almost enough to ensure it. Defence, protest, protection.

Shock.

He could deal.

He could.

Even with this.

Lips sliding in his own drool, Lex clung to the wooden floor as if he was in danger of spinning away, as if he wasn't pinned and held by his father's weight, his rage, his frustration. Lex prayed with incoherent need. For something. Someone. Even if he couldn't think a name. Not even in his head. Not here. Not with this…

But if he lived.

If.

Oh God, did it used to take so long? His body jerked in uneven rhythm. Slammed mercilessly into the solid floor, Lex tried to wait it out. It had to end soon. Had to.

Maybe if he begged again, that would be enough. The thought almost made him open his mouth, for the words to be formed, ready. But he couldn't make himself say them. Couldn't. Not even to stop this.

Soft, sibilant, whispered curses. Foul words that damned him. Damned them both.

And without warning it stopped.

A weight, draping over his body. Breath, gusting into the back of his neck. Silence but for harsh, rasping breaths.

Sudden, excruciating pain. Like a knife slicing him through him as Lionel pulled out. Still hard. Whatever satisfaction he hoped for unrealised.

Lex lay still, as if carved in alabaster. If he kept very, very quiet, maybe he'd be invisible. He listened. Heard sounds of rearranged clothing, a zip being fastened, the sound enough to make his skin flinch. Then a hand was stroking his throat, and it was too late to run.

Lex shuddered, a soft keening sound in his throat. Brandy-stink close to his face.

"You aren't even a good lay, Lex. I need someone with a little more enthusiasm."

Finding some shreds of defiance. "Getting too old, Dad? What does it take to get you off these days." The words were smeared into the floor, but Lionel still heard them.

"Hating you."

Long fingers tightening. The world turning to shadow, spiking with bright lights that looked so utterly unreal. Choking. He had choked as a child. Lack of air. Lack of oxygen. Inhalers for the simple reflex of breathing. Now he didn't even have that.

Such a failure.

Should have fucked better.

Told better lies. Or fewer. And, as the world shimmered away, pain deep in his starved lungs, he was desolate. Knowing he was deserving, so deserving. Of all this, and more.

Clark.

Oh -

And the naming of names made him want the hurt, want the punishment.

Better this.

Fingers digging into his neck. Crushing. Air like diamonds, too precious to breathe.

Spiralling.

Until the darkness at last, and he went into it smiling.

~

"Lex!"

The voice was real?

"Lex, please?"

"Don't - "

"Lex, thank goodness."

"Don't beg." Lex slurred the words, but there was no mistaking their intensity.

"Oh, Lex…" Relief. "I thought you were…"

Pause.

"What? Dead?" Lex opened his eyes and somehow met Clark's wide, concerned gaze without flinching.

"Yes."

Ah. That simple. No wonder the boy looked slightly freaked. Lex shifted, willing mobility into his muscles. Found himself still on the floor, half-wrapped in a comforter. He eased upright, assisted by warm, strong hands. Fuck, he was cold. As he sat he bit down on the sharpness of the pain. He wouldn't let it show.

Wouldn't. Didn't want Clark to fuss. Didn't want Clark to have seen.

Dark metal taste of blood in his mouth. It always made him queasy.

"Lex?"

Blink.

"Lex, do you need an ambulance?"

Another blink. Concentrate. This is Clark. "Ambulance?"

Nod. "You're bleeding."

"Still?"

Clark's face flared scarlet. "No. It's… dried."

"No ambulance then." Why did it hurt so much to talk? Ah, yes.

"Oh."

So unsure. So out of his Smallville-shallow depths. Lex wondered if he should just tell Clark it was all alright.

But not even he could lie that well.

He took a long, uneven breath. Looked around. It was morning, bright daylight streaming through the drapes. The bed was a mess.

He wondered where his father was.

"Lex, come back!"

"What?"

"You keep… fading out."

"Sorry."

Lex plucked at the comforter. His wrist was darkening, the pale skin mottling blue and dark red. He frowned at it. Remembered. Jesus. Blood, bruises. Thank you, Daddy.

He closed his eyes. When he opened them his vision was oddly blurred.

Clark was a bleary shape, hand reaching towards him, gently touching his face. Lex was proud that he didn't flinch.

Or maybe he did, because Clark backed away as if burned. "Are you sure about that ambulance?"

"Yes." He shivered. "Thanks." Careful afterthought.

He'd gone the route of rape-kit and all the other trappings of authority once before. A month in Claremont was punishment enough. He'd never thought about telling anyone ever again.

"Lex?"

"Yes, Clark?"

"Is there someone in the house - anyone you want me to find, to - " Awkward gesture. " - to look after you."

"No. The house is empty." Or was Lionel still here? He caught his breath on the thought, then realised he couldn't be. Not if Clark had walked in without being challenged. "Was there anyone downstairs?"

"No. I came in, called for you but there was no answer - took me a while to find you up here."

"No one else here?"

"No."

Deep sigh.

"Lex, who…" The syllable broke, but Clark started again, sounding so strained and uneasy that Lex knew what the question was going to be. "Who did this to you?"

"No one." Lex pushed himself to his feet. It took all his will power, but he did it. He swayed but stayed upright. Ah, the satisfaction of a challenge overcome. His eyes fluttered closed, then opened with their old intensity. He looked down at Clark where he knelt before him. He could almost have hated the boy for his innocence. For being younger than Lex's imagination could encompass.

All that easy familiarity with his so wholesome parents.

Lex pushed the thought away. The envy that went with it. Pulling the comforter around him, shuffling like an old man, he made it to the bed. He even sat without screaming.

Clark was there again. Tall, dark, vibrant and so concerned. Life was so damn unfair. Clark in his bedroom now. Seeing him like this. Lex wrapped his arms around his body and wished quietly for the world to disappear.

"Lex?" More insistent this time. "Who did this?"

"Who did what exactly? What do you think happened, Clark?"

"You were raped." No hesitation. Brooding look. "Who did it?"

Damn. Bluff called. Lex chewed his raw lip, tasting the old scar and new bruises. "No one."

Clark jerked as if slapped. "I might be stupid but even I can see what's been done to you!"

"It was sex, Clark."

"What do you mean, rape isn't - " The penny dropped. "Oh."

"Just sex." Lex almost stopped himself at the stunned moment of realisation that spread like disease on Clark's face. Almost forced himself to admit the truth.

But he couldn't.

"You wanted… this." Statement. His body strung taut with anger. A hand gestured up and down, somehow encompassing Lex and bruises and every perversion Clark's undoubtedly fertile web forays had ever produced.

Lex nodded. What did another lie matter? And it was easier to admit to than the truth. He wasn't sure he really ever wanted Clark to see the shaky foundations that underpinned Lex Luthor. "Yeah." Lex closed himself off, wondering how long it would take Clark to take the hint and go. He wanted to search for whatever drugs were left in the house. He'd taken so many in the last few weeks and amazingly enough nearly all of them close to legal; there had to be some cocktail that would dull the pain. All the pain. "Go away, Clark. Go and be shocked somewhere else."

"I'm not shocked."

"Good for you. But go home anyway."

"I'm not shocked because I just don't believe you."

Lex blinked when he spoke. "Why?"

"You didn't enjoy this. You couldn't."

"Live and learn, pain can be pleasure."

"Including this?"

A darting hand stroked his bruised throat, and Lex closed his eyes lest a fraction of truth escape. What would innocence believe? "It's the latest kick. Erotic asphyxia."

"And the blood - that was pleasure too?" Wild disbelief. The boy was standing now, all incandescent, outraged disbelief.

"You're too young." Ultimate insult. "You'll understand one day." Ah, the patronising edge was just right.

Clark couldn't be given a reason to be interested in Lionel. Or for Lionel to be interested in Clark. Lex flashed on that as a possibility and shuddered. His own memories were bad enough. But Clark was more than a freak who had no body hair, whose very freakishness could be taken away with brow implants and eyelashes that were plastic and had been agony to have inserted, or even the naked, bald head that could at least now, at twenty-one, be choice rather than embarrassment. Clark was - different. For whatever reason.

Lionel had enough freaks. He'd bred one all of his own.

Clark was still all focused fury. "Are you really telling me that you enjoyed all - that?"

Such fine anger. For a brief, selfish moment, Lex warmed himself on it. Then he hooded his eyes and lied. "Yes." Now go away. Go away.

"You actually like pain?"

"For Christ's sake, do I have to spell it out to you?"

"Try me."

"I like a good hard fuck, alright?"

"And to be hurt."

"Yes."

"Like this - "

And Lex screamed as Clark pulled him upright. Sweating, bone-cold he hung in the so-strong arms and whimpered like a drowning kitten.

"Lex." Clark's voice, but as if from a thousand miles away. Anger and no control. "You really like this?"

A small shake that almost made him throw up there and then. "Clark - " Sweet Jesus…

"Don't lie to me."

"Clark, please - " He could taste bile, and the room was blanking out, as if the instant his body was allowed to it was going to close down.

"Lex - "

"No." The word was so soft a whisper that it was almost just a thought.

"What?"

"No, I don't - " Fighting to get the words out. " - like this."

And blessedly the hands stopped shaking him, stopped trying to rip his raw shoulders from his torso. Released suddenly, Lex dropped to the floor, landing heavily on his knees. The comforter had slipped, and slowly, shakily he gathered it up and pulled it around himself. Sitting back very carefully, he dropped his head into his hands.

For a long while Lex just breathed. The pain was - what? Bearable, he decided after a while.

"I'm sorry."

Ah, Clark was still there. Lex looked up slowly, folding his hands into his lap as he straightened, feeling every muscle, every nerve as a separate ache. "That makes me feel so much better. Happy now?"

"No."

He didn't look it either. He looked miserable. Lex, for a brief second, wanted to kiss him, to mend the hurt, which as he was the one in pain was damned stupid. But then he'd always been stupid where Clark was concerned. He sighed. "You've quite a temper."

Clark shook his head. He crouched next to Lex, pale jeans pulled tight over his knees, big hands trying not to touch, remorse written all over his perfect features. "I - try and control it. And it works, usually."

"Usually."

"I'm learning." Shy smile that made Lex look away. "Why did you lie?"

Such a prying mind. "Isn't it enough that I felt I had to?"

"Oh. I didn't mean - ."

"Clark, I'm stiff and sore and I want to sleep, but you haven't made anything worse than it already was. Go home. I'll be fine." He almost believed it himself.

"You want me to leave?"

"Yes, well done."

"Would you lie if I asked you who did this?"

"No. Because I'm not telling you anything. Don't push it."

"But all I want to do is help."

"How, right the wrong? Who made you Justice incarnate?"

"No one." Small voice.

"Clark, it doesn't concern you."

"Why?"

"You don't always get what you want in life, Clark. Grow up and understand that."

"That's harsh."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Clark stood up, and slowly walked to the door. He hesitated for a long time, while Lex resolutely failed to look at him.

"Call me if you need anything?"

"I won't."

Lex waited. Finally the door opened, closed, and the soft footsteps receded.

Alone.

The room felt very cold.

Hollow.

Empty but for a thousand ghosts of might-have-been.

~

"Earth to Clark!"

Blink. "Oh, Pete." The sounds of the Talon filtered back. Clark blushed gently and sat up. "Hi."

"Your latte's getting cold - Lana been smiling at you again?"

"No."

"Aw, come on, Clark, even if she only gets up close and personal with Whitney, at least she likes you, it's not that bad."

"No, I'm kinda okay being Lana's friend. It's not her."

Pete put his own cup onto the table then slung himself down in the chair next to Clark. He was smiling, loose-limbed and happy. Saturday, and the world to enjoy. Clark couldn't help but smile back. Just a little. "OK then, what gives?"

Clark thought for a moment, remembering. "I'm not sure."

"Well, you look like the weight of the world is residing right on your broad and manly shoulders. Are you sure Lana isn't around?"

"Quite sure, thank you." Clark reached for his coffee. It was cold. But it didn't taste too bad. Not really. "Pete - "

"Yeah."

"If someone hurt you, would you tell me who it was?"

"Woo… tough one. I guess it'd depend on who it was, why I was hurt, stuff like that."

"Oh."

Pete leant forward, all sudden seriousness. "Come on, tell me. What are you all knotted up over?"

"I can't tell you."

"No?" Pete made a face. "Well, you don't have that many friends, Clark, so is it Chloe - and I will ask her."

"No."

"Your parents?"

"No!"

"What about your fairy princess herself, she in some sort of trouble but you can't tell me 'cos of some solemn vow?"

"No." Sigh. "Lana's fine, as far as I know."

"Which leaves Lex."

Clark opened his mouth. Closed it again. Neatly boxed. He shook his head, denying before he even opened his mouth. "Why should it be Lex?"

"Because he's the only person you get this wound up about." Pete shrugged. "Man, you run when he crooks his finger."

"He's my friend, Pete. Like you."

"Not like me. I'm not a billionaire's son."

"Nor me."

"Damn shame!" Pete lifted his cup and toasted the thought.

Clark grinned, quickly, in sympathy. They all wanted a taste of Lex's money. Well, his fabulous cars and his clothes and the women so perfect they seemed unreal. Lex was cool beyond belief.

With a body bruised with unmistakeable finger-marks. With blood drying on his too pale skin. And an ocean of ice behind his shuttered blue eyes.

Maybe the money wasn't enough after all.

Clark closed his eyes on the flash-image of Lex sprawled awkwardly, limbs angled like a doll's. The moment Clark had thought him dead.

Again.

He shivered.

"You getting a cold?"

"No. I'm fine, just tired."

He looked at Pete and knew this was the wrong person to be talking to. Pete hated Lex. For a variety of reasons. And Clark still had nightmares about the gun, and the pretence, and knocking Lex out - yet again. At least Pete didn't remember. Lucky Pete.

"So, what's Lex Luthor need today?"

"Forget Lex for a moment, Pete. I'm serious, if you were hurt by someone, would you tell who it was."

"You are so focused." Pete blew out a long breath. "Dunno. Maybe, I wouldn't tell if I thought I'd done something stupid. Or if I was embarrassed - like when Jackson wouldn't tell anyone how he got that split lip and it turned out Jennifer had whacked him when he tried it on." Pete wiped his mouth, sat forward and spread his hands on the table, drumming softly. "Now tell Uncle Petey, what's going on?"

"I - nothing."

"You wait, I'll set Chloe on you."

"You wouldn't!"

"Watch me, man."

They both giggled. Boys against the girls.

"You two okay?"

"Lana!"

"Hi, Lana."

"I'm just starting a shift - you need a refill either of you?"

"No, I'm good."

"Me too."

Perfect smile. Bestowed on both of them equally. Dressed in jeans and a pale lemon shirt, Clark thought she looked perfect. Perfect and quite untouchable. He watched as she perched on the arm of the spare chair, one leg swinging, the other tucked up, easy, relaxed, curiously distanced.

Lex had more passion, more fire. All of it controlled. Contained. He wasn't sure that Lana contained anything other than her self-possession.

And then he blushed, for comparing Lana and Lex was something he tried never to do. "So, how's the Talon doing?"

"Great."

"You're certainly busy, the Beanery must be regretting you opening here."

"We do serve better coffee. And we have much better waiting staff."

"Too right." Pete smiled past Lana at the waitress behind the counter.

Lana laughed, caught the look and leaned forward conspiratorially. "Her name's Alice. And she likes you too."

"Really?"

"Mmm."

Clark shook his head in tolerant amusement at them both. "So, Lana, the gamble worked?"

"You mean my careful business plan worked!"

"That's what I meant."

"Well, I think even Lex is pleased - though he's kinda hard to read so I'm not really sure. He was meant to be here today, but I guess something came up. It's not like him though. Is he alright, Clark?"

"Why should I know?" Clark, wide-eyed, appeared to be trying to back into the chair.

"Because you always know." Patient Lana-voice. "Because you're his friend."

Pete sniggered. "Sure, everyone knows you're his shadow. I bet even Lex's secretary comes to you when she needs to know where the boss man is."

"But…"

"Yeah, yeah, just good friends, blah, blah, blah."

"I'm sure he's fine, Lana." Clark glared at Pete.

"Perhaps I'd better call him."

"No!" Clark found himself pinned by their surprise, he glanced from one to the other and could only shrug. "It's just, I think maybe he said something about a meeting. "

"A meeting? Oh."

"I'm sure he meant to tell you. I've got some deliveries to make at the castle later, I'll check on him then."

"No, he is the boss, and as such can do pretty much what he wants. Besides, his father might have wanted him for something super high-powered and important."

"His father?"

"Mr. Reynolds from Hope Farm was talking to Nell earlier, complaining about the Luthor disregard for neighbours - apparently their helicopter woke him at two in the morning and then again at six."

"Last night?"

"Apparently so."

Not a stranger. Someone whom Lex was afraid of.

Someone who had been at the castle.

Abruptly, Clark stood up. "Sorry guys, I forgot, Mom needs me at home." He manoeuvred out from behind the table.

"Work?"

"Chores. You know how it is if I get behind."

"I'm staying here for a while." Pete was sitting back, studiously looking cool.

"Good luck."

Wide grin. "We can't all be heart-breakers. Go and work your ass off while I see if I can find a more interesting use for mine."

Lana tutted at them both and stood up. "See you later maybe, Clark?"

"Sure." He was walking away. Hurrying.

"Cool."

"See you."

Clark glanced back, seeing Lana already working and Pete leaning on the counter smiling at Alice.

And he wondered if Lex was still on the floor.

And if he should go back.

And if he was a good friend. Or a bad one.

And if what he had suddenly understood was possible.

He walked home. The long way. Slowly.

Why wouldn't Lex tell him? Not that he had to. But, as a friend. He would have told Lex if it had been the other way around.

But, he added honestly, not if it involved any of his special powers. Or the fact he was alien. He wasn't sure he could ever tell anyone that. At all, ever. The alienness was something almost shameful. And he didn't want Lex to ever look at him and see that shame.

Shame.

In the middle of nowhere, Clark stood quite still.

That was the look. In Lex's eyes.

Clark closed his eyes, squeezed them shut so tightly that he saw dark blossoms of red behind his lids.

He sat down before he fell. Cross-legged in the middle of a field, the wide sky blue and perfect, a slight breeze disturbing his dark hair, eyes fixed on empty air as the revelation caught up with him. As he thought about it. Really thought.

The pain in his belly a sudden warning, he twisted onto his knees, throwing up coffee and breakfast and what felt like every meal he had ever eaten.

Lex.

Clark blinked and sniffed hard. Shakily, he wiped his face on his sleeve, then knelt back.

God, he had no idea what to do.

He couldn't tell his parents. Wasn't even sure they'd believe him if he did. Anyway, if Lex didn't want him to know, he wouldn't be pleased if Clark announced it to anyone else.

If he was right.

And he knew he was.

Staggering to his feet, he took a few steps, then hesitated, not sure if he could face going home, being normal. Or why he wasn't heading straight back to the castle. Except, Lex had damn near thrown him out - probably would have done if he'd felt better.

Clark stared up at the sky and wanted to howl in frustration. What should he do?

Misery dragging his shoulders he started to walk on, slowly, still in the direction of home. Maybe he could hide out in the barn, then in a few hours head back to Lex. Sort of call in like he was just concerned. Just checking to be sure Lex wasn't lying naked on the floor bleeding to death.

Clark stopped again, closed his eyes, fighting his churning gut, and the blaze of hatred that left him gasping, shaking with rage. To do that to your own son. To hurt him so, so -

Completely.

Churning inside, wanting to hurt Lionel Luthor, to destroy him with his bare hands. Clark understood finally why his own father had taught him lesson after lesson in control. Because without it, the cure for so many problems would be way too easy. At this moment Clark didn't care about anything but Lex. About making Lex better. Doing something to take away the pain, the shame that had lain like opaque glass in Lex's cool blue eyes.

To be certain Lex never hurt like this ever again. It was a whole shift of his world view. Lex the sublime controlled perfectionist, recast as vulnerable, battered child. Yesterday he would have laughed at the notion. Laughed at mighty Lex Luthor needing protection from any man. Needing anything from anyone.

Now?

Clark stopped again, kicked at the earth.

_Love me._

The thought came out of nowhere. Whole, formed. A fact. The idea so shocking he gasped out loud.

_Love me. Let me love you._

Closing his eyes on the world he saw Lex. Arrogant, perfect Lex, with his secret smiles and his energy and restlessness. The way he watched, touched, was just, there. Offering. As if friendship was a dance leading to somewhere quite different.

It was a scary thought. That he might want Lex as more than friend.

Much more.

Scary but liberating. He stared up at the vast sky, his mind open and free. Suddenly so many things made so much sense. Every look he had ever caught Lex giving him that had made him smile. Every focused thought.

Lex. Who might never want to see him again. Certainly might never want anything more than friendship. If that.

Clark swung himself around in a circle, head up, peering into the haziness of the blue, blue sky. He turned, arms outstretched, spinning slowly, his boots kicking up dust, his dark red shirt flapping around his body as he moved. Faster, as if he wanted to throw himself up into the sky, lifting like a mote in the eye of a dust-storm, higher and higher, so he could shout Lex's name out loud, so he could scream all his anger and frustration out into the universe.

Instead, after a moment, he stilled. Almost breathless as the world continued to spin around him.

Then he walked on, stumbling only slightly. A tall youth, walking home in the afternoon, the sun catching red lights in his dark hair, long-legged walk relaxed, easy grace as something natural from deep in the bone. Something given. A state of grace.

Not a cloud in the sky.

Unless you looked into his face. And saw the man who had grown where the child had been.

~

"Clark?"

"Hi, Mom?" As Martha walked up the barn steps, Clark shook himself, sat up from his sprawl and automatically straightened the blanket on the couch.

"I've missed you today. Are you alright, you don't normally skip lunch."

"Oh, yeah, fine." Sweeping his hand through his hair, he foundered slightly, the transition from intense thoughts focused on Lex and Lionel and Lex and himself, to mom and normality making him feel slightly giddy. "I grabbed a bite to eat at the Talon. And I did all my chores first." Sudden doubt. "Didn't I?"

She laughed, softly, shaking her head in mild exasperation. "Yes, you did and I'm not checking up on you. Well, only a little."

"That's okay, I can cope with a little." He smiled at her.

"Just as well. I don't think your Dad and I will ever stop worrying about you. However grown up and strong you become."

"Thanks. I appreciate that." He laughed at the face she was making. "Really!"

"I'll remind you next time you're complaining about curfew."

"Hey, which I haven't earned yet."

"It'll happen." Martha smiled teasingly, then sat down beside him and leant back, sighing as she relaxed. "Oh, this is nice. No wonder you hide out here so much."

"I don't hide. I think."

"Of course."

He hesitated, watching her smiling. "Mom, I might be out late tonight, maybe even stay over with a friend."

"A friend. Any friend in particular?"

Clark shrugged. "Lex. Maybe."

"Well, that doesn't sound very certain."

"I - I won't know until later. He, er, might need some help."

"Help that needs you to stay?"

"Maybe."

Martha turned and looked at her son. Unsettlingly intent. "Clark, don't…" She shrugged, her lips thinning into an ironic twist that mocked herself as much as the world. "Just be careful."

In a terrible moment Clark knew he was going to blush. He sat forward, awkward, head turning away as his face seared scarlet. "Mom! We are just friends!"

"Oh!" Martha sat still, blinking as she caught up with what Clark had said, and how his mind must be working to even think that at all. Teenage boys - what was it, every ten seconds and they thought of sex? Somehow she kept her own equilibrium. "Your father will be very pleased to hear it. Though, if you weren't - just - friends, I personally would like to think you were careful anyway. Whoever it was with."

"Oh. Yes. I will - would be."

"And when I said 'be careful' I meant it a bit more generally."

"Er, I guessed. Eventually." Slighter less flustered, Clark turned to her, full face, and smiled. "You're okay, you know that, Mom?"

"High praise, thank you kindly." She slapped his arm, warding off embarrassment. "Anyway, what time are you off?"

"Soon, I think."

"No real plans?"

"No."

"Is Lex alright?"

Clark hesitated. "I think he will be."

Martha stood up, pushing the sleeves of her blouse up her forearms. "Clark, I might not be quite specific to your father about where you are tonight."

"Really?"

"Mmm, the first steps on the slippery slope, but he'll be so much happier if he just thinks you're out with a generic 'friend'."

"Thanks." Standing up he leant forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Then hesitated. "Mom?"

"Clark."

"What about you, would you be happier if Lex and I weren't so close?"

She studied him carefully for a long moment. "Clark, I want you to be happy, and I respect anyone who helps make you happy. So does your father really. But you're still so young, aren't you. And well, Jonathan has a lot of issues that maybe cloud his perception where certain people are concerned."

"I know. Whatever reasons he has, they are bound to be solid ones." It was almost a question.

"Your father is a good man." Which was not quite an answer.

Clark smiled. "I know that too, Mom. I am very lucky you were the ones who found me, and I'll never forget that."

"Hey, so serious! Are you sure everything is alright, Lex isn't in real trouble is he?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"Don't - " She stopped herself. "Clark, if I can help, let me know."

"Thanks."

"I haven't done anything yet! Now get off with you before your father decides it's the afternoon for digging post-holes."

Grinning, Clark watched as she walked away, traced her path out of the barn, across the yard and into the kitchen. Feeling like an intruder he even watched while she made herself a mug of tea. When she sat down, staring into space, he blinked, and focused on the things any normal human could see. The here and now.

Sometimes it wasn't quite enough.

He wandered over to the telescope, and looked out into the distance. Nell's house, Lana's window, a thousand evenings' wistful fantasy. So many hours spent pining for something lost that he had never really found.

Except now he had. Maybe. In entirely the opposite direction, in every way.

Pulling on his jacket, he glanced around, turning to look at his couch, books, the things he had collected, liked. It all looked slightly unreal. As if it belonged to someone else. Or somewhere else.

Or he did.

He wondered if Lex would see him.

What he would do if Lex refused.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

~

Clark walked up the long drive, boots crunching on the perfectly raked gravel. He paused, looking up through the early evening shadows at the towering castle that looked so out of place in Kansas, let alone Smallville. Feeling as if the earth was unsteady under his feet, so unsure of his welcome, Clark knocked at the huge oak door.

Waited, then knocked again.

Unlike that morning, the door was locked. And from the feel of it bolted as well. He shook it gently, biting his lip as he puzzled about what to do. After five minutes he walked around the side of the house, trying every door he could find. All locked.

Everywhere locked and shuttered as if no one was home.

With a slight qualm he looked inside. Just to check. Scanning slowly through room after room, some in clear use, others still shrouded in dustsheets, unused and empty. But he found no servants, no guards, no Lionel. Though finally he did find Lex.

With only a slight hesitation, Clark popped the lock on one of the side entrances. He walked in, holding his breath for a moment, half expecting someone to challenge him.

The house was uncannily silent. His boots made soft scuffing sounds on the tiled floor. So much grandeur. And Lex rattling around inside. He had an uncomfortable feeling of loneliness, of empathic, not very pleasant, solitude. Choice or circumstance? He realised he didn't know Lex well enough to be certain either way, though he could guess.

Along a curving corridor that branched off the main hall, keeping his bearings with his special sight, he found the right room. The door was slightly ajar, and Clark pushed it open with one finger.

"Hello, Clark."

There, sitting up, one arm resting lightly across his lap, the other hand clutching a square glass, awake and looking at him with something like scientific curiosity, was Lex.

"Hi." Clark shut the door behind him and slowly walked across the room.

Lex looked unwell; grey-tinted skin pulled over far too obvious bone. Dressed in dark pants and high-necked black sweater, he looked austere.

An effigy clothed in black.

Utterly unnerving.

"I knocked." Clark pushed his hands into his jacket pockets.

"I heard."

"Oh. Then why didn't you answer?"

"Maybe I didn't want any guests. Did you break in?"

"Yes."

"Such useful skills they teach at Smallville High." His voice was dry, ironic. "Is the door still standing?"

"Yes." Clark blinked, then shrugged the comment away. "I found a way in round the side." Clark shrugged. "I needed to be sure you're okay."

"Very touching. Well, here you are - " Lex waved the glass in a sort of sweeping gesture. "And as you can see, I am fighting fit."

Clark hesitated. Then sat down opposite Lex. Considering. Noticing. Lex's voice was still raspy, as if it was just this side of painful to talk. There were bruises peeking out from around the high collar. More by Lex's mouth that made the old scar appear livid. Clark wondered about all the ones he couldn't see.

"Are you staying then?" Lex asked.

"Yes."

"Oh." He seemed to think about that. Then he stared at the glass in his hand. "You're very stubborn, Clark. I'm not sure if I think this is a good quality or not."

"It is." Clark shrugged out of his jacket, then folded it over the back of the couch and leant forward, elbows propped on his knees, hands twisting together as he frowned. "Lex, don't push me away."

Lex blinked. Hesitated. "Was I?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Faint furrowing of his brow as he considered. "Yes I was."

"How are the bruises?" Lex flinched. "Lex, I could pretend I hadn't seen them, if that's what your pride would prefer. But - "

"You'd rather not."

Clark smiled gently. "And - " He took a long, even breath. "I know what happened, who hurt you."

"Really?" A slow drawl that could have stripped metal. "Enlighten me."

"Your father was here last night. It had to have been him - you'd have told me if it had been anyone else."

"Would I?"

"Yes."

Lex sighed, and a dozen thoughts seemed to sequence behind his eyes, though his expression remained exactly the same. In the end he just nodded. "Yes, Lionel Luthor in all his glory was here. And everything you saw - was exactly what you imagined."

"I'm sorry."

A sharp look up, meeting his eyes. Something near to disconcertion. Then a soft smile that twisted Lex's lips and made him wince. "For God's sake don't pity me."

"I don't. I can still wish it hadn't happened!"

"So do I. And thanks."

"For what?"

"Being around."

Clark smiled, tilting his head in almost embarrassment. "So, how are you?"

"I'll live." Lex pushed his glass away onto the table at the back of the couch. "See, I managed to shower and dress and do all sorts of really grown-up things all by myself."

"You should have let me stay."

"I'm good at chasing unwanted guests away. Some of them."

"Not now though?"

"Depends if you are still unwanted."

"Am I?"

"We'll see."

Clark smiled, brilliantly, at the glint of amusement in Lex's tired eyes. He sat back, relaxing with a sigh. He felt light-headed. Beyond happy. Just because Lex hadn't chased him away.

Just because.

They sat in silence for a while, as the day lengthened and the room filled with shadows. After a while he stood up and switched on the light over the desk. It was just dim enough not to be intrusive.

Sitting back on the couch, he looked at where Lex sat, head resting on the cushions, body quite still, a long line of slender black. Elegant even in repose. He looked very tired. Pale, even by his own standards. Clark shivered as Lex lifted his head and met his eyes.

"Sorry."

"Again? What for this time?"

"For staring."

"Oh." Lex let his head fall back, eyes half closing. "Stop thinking about it. I'll be fine."

"Did you see a doctor?"

"No." Lex sighed. "And don't scold, I took something to kill the pain."

"It's just, well, you looked…"

"Don't." Lex shook his head once and sat forward. Too sharply. He bit his lip and held still as pain visibly shuddered through him, muscles jittering into spasm.

"Lex!"

"I'm - fine." Long outward breath. "Fine."

Clark moved, walking around the table and sitting beside his friend. "What can I do?"

"Nothing. It really is alright. I just sat still for too long."

A hand, just resting on Lex's arm. "Lex - "

Clark held his breath as Lex turned, looked straight into his eyes. They sat, the moment pulled thin. Then Lex sighed softly. Lifting his hand, with the tips of two fingers he stroked down Clark's cheek.

"Why did you have to find me like that?"

"I'm sorry." It was becoming repetitious, but it was all he could think to say.

"No. I'm sorry. It can't have been pretty."

Clark shook his head. "How can you be concerned about me? Lex, I just saw the aftermath of what he did to you. I didn't have to - "

Lex gestured, as if pushing the image away. "Don't make it more than it was."

"More? It was appalling! Why - why did he, hurt you, like that?"  
"Because he was drunk. Because - because he hates me and despises me and fuck it because after he'd done it once he never thought about the rights and wrongs again." Lex took a deep breath, and stroked his hand through Clark's hair, petting him. "Don't think about it."

"I'll try." Clark did something he had always wanted to, he touched Lex's bald head. In a mirror image of Lex he lifted his hand and stroked his palm across the pale, warm skin that covered Lex's skull. Smooth. Hardly textured; veins like a tracery over bone.

Clark sighed softly. "Did you sleep long?"

"No. I haven't slept at all."

"Why?"

"Dreams."

"Oh." Clark hesitated, unsure, then shifting slightly he opened his arm wide. "Come here."

With only the slightest uncertainty, Lex curled into the offered strength. He settled slowly, easing his body into something approaching comfort. "Clark…"

"Yes?"

"I can't sleep here!"

"Do you want to?"

A nod.

"Then do it. I'm not going anywhere." Smile. "I can even stay the night."

Lex snorted, the sound soft, tangled in Clark's shirt. "Oh, a few days ago I would have paid to hear you say that."

"Not now?"

"Not right now."

"But later?"

"Yes. Later."

They both smiled. Clark rubbed his cheek over Lex's head, and held him, just tight enough.

~

Clark didn't sleep. He sat very still, hand curled protectively around Lex's shoulder, listening to the silence, quite content. He wasn't sure if Lex slept, but he rested, quite happily in the curve of Clark's arm, while the evening darkened and night closed around the castle.

It felt very right. Being here. Holding Lex. Who on a normal day would probably have spitted him rather than appear so vulnerable.

Lex who might, if signs were to be believed, like him quite a lot.

The idea warmed him right through, left him feeling light, released.

He grinned into the shadows. This was good enough reason to be alive. To be here, to hold this man.

He thought about that. Did it mean he was gay?

Was he? He considered it, briefly thought about his father then threw that thought away as something to be dealt with much, much later. And realised he didn't care what the label read.

Lex was here, trusting him. Everything else would work itself out.

Blithe happiness.

He closed his eyes and brushed an almost not-there kiss on the nearest bit of Lex. And started when Lex lifted his head, shifting with a slight indrawn breath as he moved.

"Hey - be careful."

"I'm fine." Lex considered the statement, then sighed. "Very well, I ache. Better?"

"Yes." Clark untangled his arm and straightened, spine cracking as he stretched. Slyly, he peered at Lex out of the corner of his eye. He did look a little better. Not much though. Suddenly, he remembered his mother's cure for bruises and overworked muscles. "You should take a bath."

"Do I smell?"

"No! I just thought, it might, well, ease the aches."

"Ah." Lex sat up a little, and frowning slightly looked at Clark. "And what would you be doing, while I was in the bath?"

"Finding something to eat? Or I could stay, make sure you didn't fall asleep and drown."

"Clark, I do believe you are blushing."

"They tell me I'll grow out of it. Hopefully sometime before I hit thirty."

Lex offered his hand, and watched as Clark covered it with his own, weaving their fingers in an elaborate skein of flesh and bone.

"You will."

"So…?"

Lex seemed to hesitate, as if arguing with himself. Finally he sighed and shrugged. "I suppose I might drown. So you should stay to keep me awake." He looked up, and Clark could have believed he was uncertain. Which was so unlike Lex that he almost missed the fleeting expression.

"Which bath, that fancy thing that looks like something out of a Victorian novel?"

"No. That's one of the guest bathrooms. I have my own. It is big enough for two."

"Oh."

"Share, and you can be certain I don't drown." A thumb rubbed over Clark's hand. "Nothing untoward. Just a bath."

"Nothing untoward?"

"Well, maybe a little untowardness, on account." Twisting smile. "Not too much." Lex stood, making it to his feet with only a little added assistance.

"Lex, I want - " Clark searched for a way to verbalise what he wanted, and gave up. He looked hopelessly at Lex. "I just want, everything."

"Oh, me too. It isn't in my nature to be content with crumbs."

"The full banquet or nothing?"

"Yes."

Clark wondered what a banquet of Lex would be like. The thought was dizzying, terrifying. "I'm not - "

"What?"

"You know - "

"Oh. You'll work it out."

Lex looking up the couple of inches that separated them in height. Then Clark shivered, and understood everything that was implicit in Lex's statement. And he wasn't scared any more.

A tilt of his head closed the distance.

A first kiss.

Innocence and experience. Like fire in a dry, dry land.

Clark moaned into Lex's mouth, trying to be careful of the bruises, but shuddering when Lex licked his lip, his teeth, and tongue touched against tongue. Hands supporting him, which was the wrong way around but at that second he was too giddy to care, to notice, to do anything but understand for the first time exactly why kissing was considered such a pleasant pursuit.

He had kissed before. Been kissed too. But not like this.

Every thought turning to ash, Clark groaned as Lex sucked his bottom lip, teeth teasing, biting, an edge of pain, then harder until Clark could only moan and the arousal was impossibly overwhelming. He pressed forward, and stole the kiss, taking it deep, devouring, wanting in some way he had never come close to understanding, kissing Lex, wet and needy with soft sounds that made him ache. Desperation in tiny whimpers. Need in the clutch of fingers to cloth, in the press of body to body.

Clark shuddered, and broke the kiss. He looked at Lex with unfocussed, sex-hazy eyes and shook his head. He couldn't speak though. Couldn't even close his mouth.

"You're that close?"

"God. Yes." Clark closed his eyes for a second, then opened them wide as Lex cupped a hand over his groin. "Lex! Don't. I'll - "

"That's the idea."

"Lex - "

"Yes." Smiling, Lex stepped in as close as he could and just squeezed.

Clark groaned, shudders rippling through him as he came, fully-clothed, standing, hardly touched, coming from being kissed. Coming as if for the first time.

Lex's voice, whispering. And, for a moment that spun between them, Lex simply held him.

"Wow." Slurred sound. Lex's hand stroking down his back. Comforting. Clark could feel Lex smiling.

"Wow indeed."

Heart-rate returning to normal, Clark stirred. "Lex, what about, er - "

"Me?"

"Yes."

"Sweet thought, but I'm not going to be fit for much until at least tomorrow." Lex cupped his face and kissed him softly. "Now, what about that bath?" He stepped back and, glancing down, inspected Clark's jeans. "Those, I think, might need to go in the washer."

"Oh." The dark wet patch was getting cold. He jerked as Lex touched it with his finger, rubbed lightly at the cotton. "Lex." Eyes lifting. Kiss-swollen mouth quirking into a shy smile. "That really was something." Virgin. But not for much longer. With Lex. Oh. Yes.

Clark smiled brilliantly.

Lex grinned. "You just wait, there's a lot more."

"I heard."

"News travels."

"Yeah. So, where's this fabulous bathroom then?"

Lex kissed him, once. "Come on, focus-boy."

"But you will feel better afterwards."

Lex snorted. "I'm sure I will."

And Clark blushed again.

Lex slowly led the way, out of the room and back to the hall, up the long flight of stairs. Half-way up, Clark asked a question before he'd really thought about it. "Lex, are you gay?"

Sideways glance. No laughter. Not quite. Just a tight look that hid more than it showed. "Why?"

"Curious. That's all. Not that I mind, one way or the other. Or that I have a right to." He made an embarrassed face. "But I know you slept with Victoria."

"That was business. But, yes, I fuck women. And men from time to time. I don't do livestock or pets though, so does that help?"

Clark opened his mouth, then closed it on a laugh. "I think so, you're bi."

"What have you been reading." More amusement. "Look, I enjoy sex - all kinds of sex. I am interested in people, and it is the person I fuck not a set of genitalia."

"How old were you, first time?"

"Younger than you."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"The first person to fuck me was my father, so no." Lex paused, one hand on the newel post at the head of the stairs, the other slipped into a pants pocket; GQ man in his country house. Discussing abuse.

Clark reached out and put his hand over Lex's, curving his warmth over the elegance of bone and skin and tendon, wishing he could change the past. Wipe that part of Lex's life clean and remake it in a better way. "Lex…"

"I was twelve."

Clark felt the ripple of tension in Lex's muscles. "I really do want to kill him."

"Don't. Not for that." Lex turned his hand, and taking hold of Clark's pulled him close. "He isn't worth it."

"How can you be so - normal about it?"

"Years of practice." Smile. "And lots of sex as therapy."

"I'm amazed you can still, well, like it."

"After much careful experimentation I have found I absolutely fucking love it." Lex let out a deep breath and grinned.

"What's so funny?"

"This discussion. On the stairs, with a fifteen year old who's just come in his shorts, after one of the worst nights of my life, and I'm talking about stuff I won't even tell my analyst." He smiled. "Clark, I think you might be very good for me."

"That's alright then." Clark breathed in the scent of Lex's skin. He sighed, smiling. "And, er, just in case you were worrying - I don't usually come quite so fast."

"I'm not sure I'd care if you did. You're fifteen, I bet you can jerk off five times in an ad break." He watched the blush. "Clark, are you hard again now?"

He was.

"Bath. Now."

Wide, cheese-eating grin. "Lead on."

"Hmm."

The bathroom was through Lex's bedroom. Clark noted that the bed had been stripped and clean sheets and comforter were folded, ready. There was no sign of the soiled linen. The floor was clean too. No blood. Nothing to show what a disaster the room had been that morning. Mind, there was nothing in looking at Lex that would have given the game away either.

Until he started to ease off his sweater, baring his torso.

Clark froze, sure he couldn't do anything but make it all worse. Clumsy, too strong, too enthusiastic. His father had dinned the rules into him so often over the years that they were fact. Be careful. Don't hurt the other kids. Don't play. Don't.

But Lex hadn't complained so far. And he was having trouble getting the garment over his head, the apparent stiffness hindering him. Hesitating still, Clark forced himself to be calm, then went to help untangle Lex from black wool. Only a little awkwardly, he helped. Eyes wide, glance skittering from bruise to scrape, from the finger-marks that mottled the pale, flat belly and back, to the one vicious bite-mark on Lex's shoulder, so deep it would probably have gotten Lionel into court and convicted through dental records alone. "Lex…"

"Bruises. They always look worse than they are."

"But…"

"Look, I can walk, I can bend over without screaming and nothing is broken - just a bit bashed."

"I didn't quite realise you would look like - this."

"Wait 'til tomorrow, I'll be rainbow coloured then." A quick smile that tried to take the horror from the words.

"Has it been this bad very often?"

A shrug. "Sometimes. A few times it's been worse - and more than once because sex really did get out of hand. I like to feel, Clark. Life should be full of stuff that makes you feel." Lex was rubbing his shoulder, easing the joint in small circles. "Though right now all I want is to soak, and feel less like a rag doll."

There was a door leading off the room. "Bathroom?" Clark gestured vaguely in its direction.

"Yes."

"I'll get the water running." He walked over and pushed open the door. And stood still in amazement. "I see what you mean about there being room for two!"

The room was as big as his parents' living room. And the bath… Well, the bath could have done a film set proud. Sunk into the floor, deep blue tiles set in a pale jade surround, it was simple, understated, yet luxurious and utterly decadent all at once. Jonathan would probably have wanted to take a shotgun to it.

"What are you laughing at?" Lex was beside him, watching his face with curiosity, affection.

"This. It's so, so, unlike anything I've even seen."

"You like?"

"Oh, yes." Deep sigh of contentment. "Just don't tell me you fill it with asses' milk."

"No, just water. With the occasional addition of bath oil."

"Which has to be expensive?"

"Of course." Lex picked up a blue towel, held it out to Clark. "For you."

"Thanks." Clark took the towel and reached down to turn on the water, which filled the bath at an alarming rate. Steam lifted upwards, curling in the air.

He considered oil, then rejected it. Another time. Now what was needed was warmth. Something to unknot Lex's muscles. Clark stood up, found Lex watching him. He smiled. Belly twisting as Lex smiled back.

"Lex, you get in, I'll be back in a moment. I just want to check something."

"OK." Lex was unfastening his pants, and Clark went, not exactly being a coward.

Quickly, efficiently, he made the bed, draping the clean comforter over the neatly tucked sheets. From the bathroom he could hear soft splashes. Slowly, Clark unfastened his shirt and peeled it off. His boots followed, then jeans and shorts. Naked, he stood and listened. Then, gathering his courage, he went back.

Lex was submerged up to the chest, arms spread wide along the bath's edge, eyes closed in something like bliss. After a moment he lifted his head and opened sleepy eyes. Which widened immediately. He sat up, leaning forward, smiling that smile.

Five steps across the tiled floor, then two down into the bath. The water was warm even for him, heavenly. Aware that Lex was watching his every move, he didn't try and hide the fact his dick was still half-hard. He ignored it, and simply settled into the water which surged as he sat down, the level rising as steam swirled around them. A sigh as skin brushed against skin.

He was naked with Lex. They were both naked, sitting in a bath fit for a prince. It seemed uncannily like a dream.

The bruises were real though. With a splash and rush of water, Clark moved, shifting over so he was next to Lex. Sitting side by side.

Sweat beaded Lex's lip, his scalp, tracing along the veins by his temples. A trickle ran down his neck. Clark swallowed, wanting very much to lick just there, where his throat was still shiny, to taste the salt skin. To kiss the bruises better.

So many. Flowering darkly under the skin.

Abandoning caution he leant forward and pressed his lips delicately to the slim, damaged throat. He felt the gasp as much as heard it. Lex. Here. Clark held his hand to Lex's face, aching deep inside when Lex tilted his head and pressed a kiss to Clark's palm.

"Clark."

"Do you feel this is like a dream?" Heat and wet, sweat like a second skin. Lex like one of his better fantasies. Yes, it could all be a dream.

"No. I don't like my dreams much. I like this - even if it is something I could get arrested for."

"In six months I will be seventeen." Clark let his hand drop, and swirled it in the water.

"So you're sixteen. Great, I feel so much better." Lex slid deeper under the water, wincing slightly as something protested. "And there was I having serious trouble thinking of myself as a child molester."

"You haven't molested anything yet."

"Clark, I feel like death - and you're making bad, innuendo laden jokes?"

Clark grinned. "Trying to keep your mind off things."

A resigned shake of Lex's head. "Succeeding too."

"So, where do you keep the soap?"

"In the soap dish, peasant."

"Is it coated in gold-leaf?"

"The soap or the soap dish? Though actually neither is." He yawned. "God, I'm tired."

"You need to eat before you sleep."

"I'm not hungry."

"I don't care." Clark lathered up the soap and started to wash himself. "You need to eat."

It took him a moment, and a couple more applications of soap to realise that Lex wasn't answering. Then he realised Lex was watching him. He stopped.

"What - "

"Has it ever occurred to you that you are beautiful?"

"No."

"You are." Lex slid a finger up Clark's soapy arm. "Perfect."

"No one else seems to think so."

"They're blind."

"Or you are biased."

"Oh, no. I can see you quite clearly. They'd eat you up in Metropolis."

Clark laughed uncertainly, willing to let Lex be deluded. "Soap?"

A tiny smile that lit Lex's tired eyes. "Thank you."

They shared the lavender scented soap. Washing slowly, every movement dreamlike, the play of water on skin, the quietness, all faintly unreal.

Water swirling around them. Time held to this moment, this place.

A simple kiss. Lips to lips. Nothing more than thanks and friendship. They stood, and Clark helped Lex step out of the bath, held a towel around him, kissed him again, and patted his soft, smooth skin dry, swathing him in a towelling robe before wrapping a towel around his own waist.

"You made the bed." Lex paused in the doorway.

"I thought it would save time."

"Thank you." Lex walked forward, and sat down on the bed's edge, easing down, sighing. He looked up at Clark, lips quirking in a smile. "You are a very good nursemaid."

"Mm, now I'm going to see how I do as cook."

"I really am not hungry."

"Well, I am. I haven't eaten since breakfast." He didn't mention that he'd thrown up that as well.

Pushing the comforter back, Lex slipped out of the robe and curled under the sheets. He relaxed back into the pillow with a sigh. "Go on then, God knows what you'll find there, the housekeepers are all away."

"I meant to ask, why is the house so empty, I thought you were normally up to your ears in flunkies?"

"My father recalled all the staff to Metropolis."

"Oh."

"He isn't at all pleased with me."

"I didn't think this - " Clark waved a hand at Lex. " - was a sign of pleasure."

"I don't suppose you did."

"Will he apologise?"

Lex looked at him, blank-faced with incomprehension. "For what? Nothing happened."

"But - "

"Look, Lionel sees the world in his own terms. It is a common Luthor failing. He'll have wiped last night out so perfectly he could pass a lie detector test without breaking a sweat. For him it was nothing."

Clark sat on the bed, looked at Lex, white skin on white sheets, the marks curving around his throat, his mouth. "This was nothing." He shook his head in disbelief. How could you be a father and do this? Without remorse, without even a passing flicker of guilt. "How can you bear it?"

"Because if I don't, then he has won. Look, it was unpleasant, and I don't ever want to let it happen again. But I have no intention of letting him hurt me in any way other than physically."

"Nice to know you're not totally insane."

"Hey, cheer up. You know, I'm glad you're here."

Clark softened. "Really? No more keeping me out?"

"No. Besides, you don't seem at all phased by locked doors."

Something like a smirk, hidden as he bent and dropped a light kiss on Lex's hand. "I have a promising career as a burglar." Another kiss. "Now, food." And he straightened up with a grin.

"Good luck." Lex settled deeper into the bed, pulling the covers higher, watching as Clark stood up. "If you want some sweats, try the chest by the window - it'll all be too short in the leg, but you might feel happier than wandering around in a towel, nice as the view is."

Clark glanced down. Darted a smile at Lex. "You really like the way I look."

"Clark, despite much self abuse I am not blind yet." He waved his hand regally. "Go and forage. I'm going to sleep."

"I'll bring you something."

"Yes, yes, off you go."

Clark shook his head, tutting. A quick detour to find sweat-pants - which were too short - and a T-shirt which was long enough but too tight, both in dark gray. They smelled of Lex.

He hadn't even realised he knew Lex's smell. But he did. He could close his eyes and describe Lex in detail - and he wasn't ever aware of having looked, or examined, or noted. But he had. It was as if finally his mind had caught up with his senses.

Better late than never.

Pulling the shirt into place, stooping to pick up his jeans, he went. The kitchens were deep in the house, and he found them easily, along with the wash-room. Food was less simple. There was almost nothing. In the end he settled on buttered toast, stacking a heap of it on a plate, finding juice in the massive fridge, collecting everything onto a tray and carrying it up to the bedroom.

Clark settled the tray on the bedside table. Lex wasn't asleep. Not exactly, he opened his eyes as Clark sat on the bed. Smiled lazily, in a way that made Clark shiver.

"What did you find?"

"Toast and juice, hope you like."

Lex pushed himself up, and leant back against the headboard. "Yes, you win, pass some over. What time is it anyway - the clock's on your side."

"Nearly midnight." Clark put two slices on a side plate, took one of the glasses of juice and put them both on Lex's bedside. He watched as Lex picked up the toast and bit into it, chewed, swallowed.

"You look like you need a clip-board and stop-watch to note down results and reaction times. Oh, alright, I'm hungry and this is delicious. Now stop watching me and sit and eat your own."

I-told-you-so smile, and Clark obeyed. Between them, in very little time, they demolished the mountain of toast and all the juice.

"I'll take you out to breakfast in the morning." Lex licked his fingers.

"Will you be up to it?"

"As long as you don't want me to jog into town, I guess I'll be fine."

"No jogging, promise."

"And you can drive if you want."

"The Porsche?"

"Whatever."

"Cool."

Lex sighed. "Clark Kent, you are such a boy."

"And you only drive a Porsche because it is a fine example of German engineering. Oh yeah, right."

"Well…"

"Hah!" Clark put his empty plate down and lay back against the pillows. "You're not that much older than me."

"Maybe not in years." Lex curled half onto his side, looking at Clark. "In other ways, maybe. Does it bother you?"

"No. Right now nothing bothers me."

"Even that I have lied to you?"

"We've lied to each other."

"Does that make us even?"

"I don't know. But no more lies anyway."

"No."

Clark smiled, his face just tinged with sadness. "In the morning, I'll tell you."

"Truth before breakfast?"

Clark wriggled down until he was face to face with Lex. "If you can do it so can I."

"We might have to, if this is going to be more than a few days of fucking - when I'm feeling better you understand - then a faintly acrimonious break-up followed by a life-time of poisonous regret."

"I don't want that."

"Strangely enough, nor do I." Lex closed his eyes and relaxed into the pillow. "You know, my analyst is going to have hysterics."

"She'd think this funny?"

"Well, you're underage and your father hates me and everything he thinks I stand for." Lex opened his eyes a little. "I'm lying in bed with you, and talking about having sex with you, the night after my own father worked out a few of his more sadistic character flaws on me, and to cap it all you have never - please correct me if I'm wrong - had sex with a woman let alone a man."

"No, no sex. Of any kind. Unless you count when I'm alone."

"You don't."

"Shame."

"Oh God, I am so fucked. All that and you still think you want a relationship - with me."

"I know it."

"Clark…"

They were very close. Breath mingling. Lex's scarred lip was so close, and the skin was shiny, inviting. Clark slowly leaned forward and licked the unevenness, tasting orange juice and butter, and Lex. The scar was a raised line marring the firm, perfect lips. He licked again, then kissed, just where the skin dipped inwards. He eased away with a sigh. "Lex, I want this to be something good."

"Yes." Word stretched over a long breath.

"Us. I want us. We can sort everything else, can't we?"

"Yes, if you kiss me again."

Longer this time, lips brushing together, mouthing skin at skin, barely doing more than letting the lightest of touches provide the most sensual of friction. Clark moaned as Lex licked him, tongue delicately tracing over lips, sliding between, possessing. After a moment, quite breathless, Clark tilted his head back, looked into Lex's so-serious, tired eyes. "Lex." He pulled himself even closer, his clothes and the rumpled sheets between them. "Can I sleep here?"

"Where else would you go?"

"I could guard your door like a dog."

"Only if it really turns you on." Smile, like oxygen. "I could buy you a lovely collar."

"Only if you'd share it."

And Lex laughed. Out loud. A real laugh, unlike anything Clark had ever heard from him. "Oh, Clark, you are going to surprise me far too often."

Clark rolled off the bed and pulled off his sweats before sliding back under the sheet. "Really? Is that good or bad?"

"Good." He was still smiling. "Very good."

Clark pulled them close. "Do you need any more painkillers?"  
"I took some while you were toast foraging."

"Oh." When he looked properly, it was true that Lex's eyes were darkly dilated, the gray-shaded blue eaten up by black. His lids were drooping too. Half asleep with his eyes open. "How many have you taken today?"

"Nursemaid… and I have not OD'd on analgesics, thank you."

Grinning, Clark shifted until Lex's head was resting in the curve of his shoulder. It felt good. More than that, it felt right. He smiled. And held Lex close, listening while he fell asleep.

~

Clark awoke with the feeling that something was very wrong. He lay still for a moment, only faintly surprised to have the weight of Lex still in his arms, the soft sounds of sleep-slowed breathing just barely there, more resonance than reality.

Something else.

He listened.

There, in the distance.

A helicopter.

"Lex!"

"What…" Slurred voice, rough and tacky with sleep.

"Is there anyone else but your father who would arrive by air?"

Lex stiffened, then sat up, cursing his muscles softly, sitting very still to listen. "No."

"Why's he coming back?"

"I think he may have found out something that's made him even more angry than he was the other night." A smile that was less than pleasant and Lex was climbing out of bed. "Get dressed, Clark. We want to be presentable."

Clark sat in the wrecked bed. "Don't you want to, well, do something?"

"I am. I'm getting dressed." Black trousers and a low-necked blue shirt. It matched the bruising nicely. "Come on, and remember - don't kill him. I'm not losing you now I've got you. Especially not if it means fifteen to twenty for murder one."

"What would justifiable homicide be?"

"Too expensive in lawyers'-fees. Come on!"

Lex was running on adrenaline, his eyes bright, slight colour tinting his skin. Clark climbed out of the bed and pulled on his borrowed clothes. "Hey!" He closed on Lex, touched his arm, stilled his movements.

"It's alright, Clark, I'm not insane." Lex smiled, blinking up a little to meet Clark's eyes. "Well, not too much anyway."

"Then what's happening?"

"Too late to explain, they're here." He paused, his face eager, expectant under the feverish brightness. "I think we'll meet my beloved father in the library."

"But - "

Lex kissed him. A hard, lush kiss full of so much need and so much promise that Clark found himself hard and aching in seconds. Then gasping as Lex released him with another manic smile. "That's on account. Now, don't kill him, hit him, or do anything else that might get you in prison, okay?"

Fighting to drag his brain north, Clark nodded. "I think I've got it."

A smile. Then walking as if he had never been hurt, Lex went out the room and Clark had no choice but to follow. Whatever his orders were, he wasn't letting Lex alone with his father. Not ever again if he had any say in the matter.

Lex was half-way down the stairs by the time Clark caught up with him. Following, Clark found himself in the library. He stood awkwardly by the door, unsure.

"Hey - " Lex had turned, stopped moving for a moment. "Just relax."

"How can I!" Clark let Lex guide him to one of the couches. He even sat down, though without any particular grace. A kiss, soft, hardly touching. Lex met his eyes, held them for a long moment, and somehow there was enough there for Clark to sit back. "Alright."

"Good." Lex straightened, turned, listening. "Showtime…"

He was leaning casually back against the desk when the door flung open and Lionel Luthor stalked into the room, flanked by two black-suited men who stopped ten feet away to stand guard.

"Lex, you little piece of shit."

"Hello, Dad." That Lex-patented drawl.

"I'm going to tear you apart, piece by painful piece."

"Nice to see you too. Have you met Clark?"

Lionel stopped, a foot away from where Lex was a smiling picture of relaxed bonhomie, and turned, as if seeing another person in the room for the first time.

"Get out."

Hackles rising, Clark began to say something, but Lex just half-lifted one hand in a quieting gesture and he subsided. "Clark isn't going anywhere."

"I said - "

"We heard."

"Alexander, you cannot cross me like this."

"Because I want my friend to stay? Dad, that seems a bit mean even for you."

"Not because of that and you know it." Lionel didn't shout, but he was furious, almost rippling with incandescent rage.

"Oh, you mean the other stuff. Like finally managing to make myself independent of LuthorCorp and you?"

"Yes. I don't know how you did it - "

"I put all that schooling you paid for to good use." Lex straightened, took a step forward, and tilted his head up. The bruises on his neck appeared livid in the clear morning light. "I call it payback, Dad."

Lionel looked at him, seething. "You're nothing."

"I am your son, and I just fucked you."

Lex rocked on his feet, the slap as hard as his father could make it. He staggered, clutching the desk, but stayed upright, ready for the second blow.

Except it didn't land.

Because Clark simply stopped it. A step forward and his hand was tight around Lionel's raised arm, holding it immobile. He stood quite still, face like a mask, waiting until Lionel turned and looked him in the eye.

Lex held up a warning hand. Took a long, uneven breath, and watched as Clark slowly released Lionel's wrist.

"See, Dad, you don't get to hit me today." He touched his bruised mouth lightly. "Nor ever again."

"Alexander, you're pushing me." Lionel glared as Clark backed away.

"Is that meant to make me scared? Dad, I am free of you. Understand it, believe it, accept it."

"No."

Lex smiled, and walking around the desk sat down in the wide chair, settling back, looking up with cool disinterest. "You'll have to."

"You're deluded, Lex. You'll be committed to Claremont just as soon as I get on the phone. It may take the lawyers and accountants a few days to get the mess you've made of the corporation sorted, but I won't be inconvenienced for long."

"No."

"You hated that psychiatric unit. I'm going to make sure you stay there forever."

"The last time you made that threat there was a possibility you could make it come true. Now there isn't."

Lionel put his fists on the desk and leant forward. "Believe it, boy, because I am not going to let you get away with this."

"I should, I suppose, be frightened right now." Lex turned his head and smiled at Clark. "I would have told you, but I wasn't sure if everything had gone through. Nice of Dad to come and give us the good news."

"What's going on, Lex?" The tension in the room could have sparked electricity. Clark kept close to Lionel, but he was watching Lex. Lex who was lounging back, smiling like the Mona Lisa, his eyes overly blue, his hands tapping an irregular rhythm on the chair's arms. Beneath the restraint and the sarcasm, he looked hyper, as if all the control was perilously thin.

"I've been planning the future."

"You've been destroying it!" Lionel slammed a fist onto the desk.

Lex focused on his father and tutted. "You're getting emotional, Dad, be careful." He hooded his eyes. "Did it hurt when you realised that I've taken control of everything that came to you from my mother?"

Lionel straightened, sneering. "It might have done had I believed it was going to be a permanent state of affairs."

"Ah, well, then you'd better get used to it. You see, as well as setting myself up with the remains of my mother's estate, putting the papers for this house and land and the Smallville plant in my own name and cherry-picking a few of LuthorCorp's holdings, I've gone a step further."

"Alexander - nothing will be in your name. You'll be in a straitjacket by tonight."

"I don't think so. I've been in a straitjacket and it wasn't any fun."

"It's not meant to be, I hope you hurt every single day."

"Dad - it's not going to happen." Lex smiled. Then he flipped open his laptop and turned it around. "You might want to send your goons away."

"Why?"

"Family secrets."

Lionel hesitated. "What about the Kent boy?"

"He stays. I trust him. You might not feel the same about your boys."

Lionel cursed, then waved a dismissive hand at the guards who left, closing the door on the way out.

"Very sensible." Lex pressed a few keys, then sat back. "Clark, don't touch him, whatever you see."

"I won't."

"What games are you playing?" Lionel frowned, glaring at Clark.

And the laptop screen flickered, and there was Lex's bedroom, and Lex, being dragged across the floor by his wrist.

It took a moment for Clark to realise what he was watching, hearing. Then disbelief, shock, rage followed each other so fast he felt ill. Slowly, he turned and looked at where Lionel was watching the screen, his face utterly emotionless.

"You bastard."

"Clark, no."

"I'm not going to kill him." Clark's eyes flicked back to the screen. It looked like two men fighting, except one was naked and very young, while the other was a sadist. "But I want to."

"Thank you." A private look. "See, Dad? I don't think anyone is going to be sending me anywhere."

On the screen Lex was screaming. Clark closed his eyes. "Turn it off."

Lex pressed a key.

Silence.

Lionel was looking at Lex. Staring.

"I have more copies, not just this one."

"I'll ruin you."

"Not while I have this. Like I told you, I'm twenty-one, I'm old enough to fight back."

"Treacherous, ungrateful - "

"Don't try and pretend you did anything for me. Every moment of my childhood was spent preparing me to be your heir. In fact I didn't have a childhood. And then, just when I thought you were never going to even notice my existence, unless it was to do with all those ridiculous tests, you started fucking me. Dad, be thankful I haven't ruined your life. LuthorCorp still exists, you're still rich. I think I've been very generous."

"I gave you everything."

"Oh, thank you for a wide and varied education. I don't believe I need to thank you for anything else."

"Is that all you can say?"

"What else is there. And now I'm giving you the chance to leave without being thrown out. Goodbye, father, I hope I never see you again."

For a few long seconds Lionel stood where he was. "And - that - stays with you." Statement.

"Yes. I am not a blackmailer." Lex smiled helpfully.

"One glimpse of that anywhere but here and I will destroy you, by whatever means I can."

Lex nodded. "Deal."

A bitter twist of his lips as he looked his son up and down. Then he nodded, and with a glance that encompassed Lex, Clark and the blank screen, Lionel Luthor turned on his heel. A swirl of coat-tails and he was gone.

Gone.

Clark shivered. And went around the desk. Lex was smiling, though when he looked up Clark could see little but pain in his eyes. "You won."

"Yes." A small nod.

"Are you alright?"

A small, harsh laugh. "More or less. I wanted him to acknowledge that I'd bested him. The bastard wouldn't even do that."

"You got what you wanted though."

Lex nodded. And after a moment he blinked, and some of the tension eased from his body.

"Lex, did you plan it all - I mean from the beginning?"

"Mostly." Lex took a deep breath, shrugged. "I gambled on it. It was pretty good odds that sooner or later he would try it again - he enjoyed it too much. So I set up the cameras and just waited. All it took was the right provocation, the right amount of alcohol, the right combination of need and hate."

"God, Lex." Clark tried to imagine knowing that something so appalling was going to happen. He couldn't.

"I've waited so long for this."

"And is it true, are you really free of him?"

"Yes. After you left, yesterday, I spent an hour putting everything in motion. It was all ready. Financially I'm secure, everything is tied up so tight he won't be able to touch me. This house is mine, God help me, and I am not going to starve, or even be out of Porsches."

Clark hesitated, then asked softly. "What about everything else?"

Lex shivered. "I'll live." He stirred, swept a shaky hand over his head. "I'm sorry you were there to see it." He sank back into the chair, and it was as if all the vicious energy drained away, leaving him tired, pale, very young.

"I'm glad. I can hate him with a good reason. And you were right, he had to see for himself, didn't he?"

"Yes, Lionel would never have believed just my say so."

"I know." Clark knelt, just at Lex's feet. Sliding his arms around the slim body, he laid his head in Lex's lap. He sighed when a hand began to stroke unsteadily though his hair.

"It's a strange world." Lex's voice sounded choked.

"Mm."

"And I promised you breakfast."

Clark lifted his head. "So you did."

Lex was sitting with his head tilted back. He was looking at the ceiling, his eyes fixed on a single point seemingly light-years away. "I did love him. Once upon a time I wanted him to love me back. I wanted that very much."

"And now?"

Lex shook himself, looked down at Clark. "Now I just regret it all. I regret that I am who he made me."

"No, you're not." Clark gave Lex a gentle shake. "You're not like him. Don't let the fact that you're his son poison you."

Lex smiled, a finger teasing though a curl of Clark's dark hair. "Thank you."

"I'm only pointing out facts." Clark nuzzled Lex's hand, smiling. "So, you don't regret this?"

"No, not this." Lex looked down intently. "Never this."

"Good."

A smile. "Let's go and find some pancakes. You can drive. Then when we come home I want to go to bed."

"To sleep?"

"Yes." Sideways, teasing glance. "Then we'll see."

Clark swallowed, a shiver of anticipation rippling down his spine. "About what?"

"Whatever we feel like."

Happiness like champagne. We. What a wonderful word.

Suddenly Clark stilled. Listening. The helicopter was leaving, the sound slowly fading into the distance.

After a moment. "Blueberry pancakes." Clark sounded quite certain.

"With bacon."

"As a side order?"

"Of course."

"Come on then."

Clark uncurled, standing with ease. Holding out his hands he lifted Lex to his feet, supporting him, warm hands on his arms.

Together, quite still, the moment holding as they weighed the future. The possibilities. Then Lex smiled. "Coffee, juice, or do you drink milk?"

"Coffee."

"Are you sure? I hear milk is good for growth." Lex looked up, grinning.

Clark just smiled back, and they walked out of the library, talking about food.


End file.
